Six
We arrive at an embellished metal gate separating us from a garden of manicured maroon grass and bushes adorned in the colors of autumn. A chilly breeze raises goosebumps along the exposed part of my arms. “Is this anywhere near the house we were just in?” I ask. It doesn’t feel like it, but with the faerie trails—faerie paths?—making travel so quick, it’s impossible to tell.
“No,” Dash says. “We’re in a completely different part of the world in the foothills of a mountain range.”
I peer between the metal-shaped leaves of the gate, and on the other side of the enormous house, I see snow-capped mountain peaks. The elf—I assume the pointed ears means he’s an elf—opens the gate and lets us into the garden. We walk along the paved path, up the few steps to the front door, and inside. A
